


Bad Decisions By Marian Hawke- A Unofficial Compendium

by Samuraisaucefrites



Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcoholism, Bad Decisions, Bad Ideas, Battle, Break Up, Card Games, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Dwarven Carta (Dragon Age), F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Frustration, Growth, Hawke (Dragon Age) is Bad at Feelings, Injury, Loss of Parent(s), Love, M/M, Mages (Dragon Age), Magic, Meet-Cute, Mental Breakdown, Multi, Other, Repercussions, Romance, Slow Burn, Stupidity, Suicidal Thoughts, The Hanged Man (Dragon Age), This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Wicked Grace (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samuraisaucefrites/pseuds/Samuraisaucefrites
Summary: This is a non-linear group of short fics about my canon F! Mage Hawke, Marian.Be warned, some heavy stuff, some light stuff, some drunk stuff and definitely some dumb stuff. Marian is doing her best trying to survive in a world which makes simple life challenges an extraordinary struggle. It’s a good thing she has friends. They help, when they aren’t making things more complicated.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke, Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	1. BDBMH1: Emergency Ladies Meeting Act II

**Author's Note:**

> Marian has a big problem she needs to discuss with her closest female friends. This takes place at the end of Act II before the act ending quest.

Upstairs of Hawke’s estate, away from the wine barrels and her modest library, she positioned three chairs where Isabela, Merrill, and Aveline sat with impatient gazes. Marian paced in front of them for about five minutes before Isabela, the most impatient of the three, spoke up.

“Is there a reason why you gathered us all here? I’m pretty sure Aveline might try to murder me shortly so if we could get on with this, whatever this is, that’d be great.” Isabela’s expression was flat and unamused.

Pausing her pacing for a moment, Marian faced her friends, opened her mouth and closed it. After a second she resumed her march of indecision.

Marian went over and over how to relate her troubles no less than fifteen hundred times, but each idea left her with the same conclusion, there was no easy way to say what needed to be said.

Ceasing her circling, she turned her back to her friends and then lifted her gaze up to the ceiling . She noticed a little crack in the moulding. Reminding herself the distraction wasn’t helping, she just needed to talk. Inhaling a breath which filled her lungs to capacity she once again opened her mouth.

“I have gathered you, my very good and stalwart friends, because I trust you and have faith you will not breathe a word of what I’m about to say to a single soul under any circumstances whatsoever.” Marian spun around and placed her hands on her hips.

“Do you promise to keep this conversation to yourself, or Maker help you I will feed your tongues to Moon, I think he would eat tongues anyway. What don’t mabari eat? _Amiright_?”

Isabela placed a hand over her heart, “Captain’s honor.”

Aveline scowled at Isabela and did the same, “ Guard Captain’s honor.”

Merrill, who sat in the middle between the two shrugged. “I promise.”

Marian nodded and cleared her throat. “Okay, okay okay okay. I’m late.”

“Why would you have us come over if you had somewhere else to be?” Merrill asked.

“Kitten, I don’t think that’s what she means...” Isabela cautioned.

“How could this happen? Are you sure?” Aveline asked. She folded her arms across her broad. Her red eyebrows knit together in disapproval.

Marian pursed her lips and raised her onyx eyebrows in response to both of Aveline’s questions. “Well, Aveline, I’m pretty sure you can figure out the how part on your own.”

“I’m really confused... late? Ooh! You’re pregnant? That’s so exciting!” Merrill shouted with glee.

Pressing her palms together in prayer position and raised them against her lips, Marian screamed on the inside.

“I don’t think she’s  excited about this, Kitten,” Isabela said in a gentle voice, placing a hand on Merrill’s shoulder

Aveline shook her head and sighed. Marian hated her sigh. She knew whatever Aveline was about to say was something obvious, correct and her way of showing concern. In a strange way, it felt comforting to know her friends so well.

“Hawke, you of all people should have been smarter about this. Did you forget to use protection? This is exactly why I lecture my guards about making safe choices.” Aveline reprimanded.

“She doesn’t need a lecture, it’s a little late for that. What she needs is solutions,” Isabela interjected.

Marian clapped and pointed at Isabela, “Yes! Solutions! We need solutions!”

Isabela bit her bottom lip, something she often did in thought, “Witherstalk is known to be useful in these situations, ingest the right amount and it’s like a very heavy cycle, how late are you?”

Marian held up two fingers answering Isabela’s question.

“Who’s the father? Shouldn’t he help with this?” Aveline asked.

“Witherstalk, okay. There’s a start. Where do we find the stuff?” Marian asked, ignoring Aveline’s question.

“No idea, maybe Anders knows? Could be part of the services his clinic provides?” Isabela shrugged.

“Oh, no. That’s a bad idea!” Marian exclaimed throwing her hands in the air. “I’ll never hear the end of it from him. Besides, he’s definitely carrying a torch, and just. Ugh! Don’t make me deal with that level of awkward! I’ve had a bad enough month already with Mother’s death. Please?”

“So it’s not Anders then...” Aveline wrapped her hand around her chin. It was obvious she was trying to solve the mystery.

“But Hawke, why not have the baby? It would be so nice to have a little Hawke around.” Merrill chimed in.

Both Isabela and Aveline stared at her and in unison snapped, “No.”

“I think becoming a parent might be a bad idea for where Hawke is in her life right now,” Isabela said.

“But who wouldn’t want to have a baby with Hawke? You have this great house, you make good money—“

“I make gold with violence and risk, Merrill. The riches which purchased this estate came from the Deep Roads where Carver nearly died. We almost all nearly died, come to mention it.” Marian began to feel light headed. This situation couldn’t be worst. Everything was escalating with the Qunari, and things were looking grim since the Viscount’s son was murdered by zealots. The voices of her friends began to sound like the din of the Hanged Man.

“Not to mention the risks of carrying a child to term,” Aveline added.

“Just my luck I would get knocked up from one stupid stupid night. Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Marian lightly banged her fist against her forehead. She was thankful her mother wasn’t there for this. Or Carver. Though, she changed her mind about his absence and wished he was there to say something snide or disapproving instead of saving the world from Darkspawn.

Isabela paused and tilted her head to the side. “That is marvelously unlucky.”

“So it’s not Anders, and definitely not Varric.” Aveline said to herself.

“Definitely not Varric,” Isabela made a face as she confirmed.

“You should send Fenris to go beat up this guy for you. He’s always looking at you when he thinks no one is looking and he’s a good friend, and after all you’ve done for him, it’s the least he could—“ Merrill stopped mid sentence.

Marian couldn’t hold it back any longer and tears began to flow from her sapphire eyes. She wiped them away with the sleeve of her shirt.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea to bother him about this,” Marian said through her sniffles.

“Oh no, really? Obviously, he’s sweet on you, but...”Isabela began.

“He’s going through a tough time right now and the last thing he needs is trouble from me.” Marian felt like she was holding back the Waking Sea from falling down her face.

“If he didn’t want trouble from you he should have used protection or kept it in his pants.” Aveline piped in. “Responsibility is responsibility.”

“But you would have such beautiful babies together! We could all pitch in and raise them together, and he doesn’t have to know!” Merrill gleefully clasped her hands together in front of her heart.

Leaving her chair, Isabela approached Marian and wrapped her in a tight hug, rocking her in a gentle soothing motion. Marian couldn’t hold back any longer and sobbed into the pirate’s shoulder. Aveline and Merrill followed, and Marian was in the middle of a big embrace by her friends.

“Whatever you choose, I will support you however I can. Though, I might smack the elf next time I see him. I’ll invent a reason.” Aveline, the largest of the ladies held the three of them together.

“I’ll talk to Anders about getting some potion together or Witherstalk. I’ll say it’s for me, he doesn’t have to know.” Isabela announced.

“I’ll make you some herbal tea to help with... just life. If the Witherstalk doesn’t work, I know some traditional Keeper magic which will help.” Merrill added.

As the one in the middle of the hug, Marian felt secure and appreciated for the first time in a long while. The worries of her life eroded away. She wiped her nose on her own shoulder and Isabela gently petted her head.

“It’s not like I never want to, you know, it’s just a bad time right now,” Marian said in a shaky voice.

“Messere! A letter just came for you from the Viscount again!” Bodahn’sn voice reverberated through the mostly empty estate.

“Because of stuff like that.” Marian sniffled and laughed.

Soon all four of the ladies were laughing in their embrace, but didn’t let go. Marian was grateful for her friends. They were a handful, but they were  her handful.

“So, are you going to tell us how he was, or what?” Isabela asked after a long while.

“Isabela!” Aveline scolded, and the women laughed again. 


	2. Lonely Kirkwall Nights - Between Act II & III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian has a bad case of loneliness in her first year after ousting the Qunari threat. She makes a very dumb choice. Some adult themes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t had time to give this a fair edit yet. Sorry. Maybe later today I can clean this up.

The wind howled, Kirkwall had been battered by late autumn storms for near a week. Moon, Marian’s trusty mabari, approached his master with his a leash in mouth. She sighed and caressed his short fur on his square head. Not bothering to attach the leash, Moon was a good boy. 

“Come on, boy,” she said waving at Moon to follow. She grabbed her longochre leather coat, which Varric had commissioned as a gift celebrating her new status as Champion of Kirkwall. 

Outside the estate walls, a gust whipped around, Moon jumped trying to bite the wind and up the stairs chasing after the wind. Marian did her best to keep up, 13 months since her duel with the Arishock and her wounds from battle still troubled her. She did her best to hide it, but her staggered gait gave it away. 

“Moon!” She called out, she followed her dog through the empty evening streets and she found Moon sitting in front of the abandoned Manor where Fenris lived. Moon barked and whined in front of the door. Marian stopped in her tracks and shook her head in refusal. 

“Come on, Moon. He doesn’t want us to visit. We only come on Tuesdays when we do reading lessons, you know that.” She folded her arms and scowled at the mabari.

Moon pawed at the door in protest and growled. 

The door creaked open, and the Moon pushed his way in. She could hear a happy bark inside.

“Fenris, I’m sorry, Moon has a will of his own,” Marian apologized. Fenris appeared in the doorway patting Moon’s head. 

“Sorry, Marian, this isn’t a good time,” he explained. She refused to look at his eyes, she couldn’t let him see how she felt. Not today. She had been sober all day, and felt everything. She did, however, have a sip of brandy a few hours before to keep the shakes away. She was thankful he never saw her in this state. Since becoming Champion she never felt further from deserving of the title.

“I didn’t mean for him to bother you, but he drug me out and now I’m here, and… Um. Would you just drop him off later? He doesn’t want to be home for some reason.” She swallowed hard. Her hair had grown out to her collar bone and since it had some length she developed the nervous habit of wrapping her finger around some bottom locks.

“Of course, I’ll make sure he gets home.” He said. She began to back away. “Where are you going tonight, another soiree with Kirkwall’s finest?” There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice. She wanted it to be jealousy. She wanted him to invite her inside. Since their night together they stopped hanging out just for fun. Every visit required a purpose. Tonight she couldn’t think of a reason to gain herself entry.

“No, just the Hanged Man. I feel Varric’s loneliness from here. It’s a gift.” Their eyes met and she felt like all of the finest porcelain in the Free Marches shattered in a single moment. She couldn’t get over it. Over him. He smiled at her before returning to his serious expression.

“Ah yes, well, maybe I will swing by after I return Moon. I’m,” he sighed, “working on something and I might not be able to stick around.” 

“Of course. It would be nice to… have you if you can. If not, I’ll see you Tuesday. Thanks for watching Moon.” She waved farewell and shuffled away. She didn’t wait to listen to his goodbye. It seemed all he said to her was goodbye. To stifle the roaring monologue in her mind she made haste to the Hanged Man in Lowtown. There the din was loud enough to keep her own thoughts muffled for a while.

***

“Anders! Fancy seeing you here,” Marian called out to her fellow mage upon seeing him seated at a table with Varric at the Hanged Man. The more company the merrier tonight. The warm glow of the hanging lights and the stench of spilled beer brought a smile to her face. It was time to put on the show, the world was her stage and she was Marian the Champion of Kirkwall again.

“There’s nothing fancy about here,” Anders smirked raising his stein to her. Varric did the same.

“Blondie was just telling me the craziest tale. You wouldn’t believe his time with the Hero of Ferelden,” Varric explained as he kicked out a chair for Marian to sit in. She appreciated the little things Varric did to make her recovery easier. 

“You don’t say, let’s hear it.” Marian plopped down in the chair between the two. 

“Maybe another time,” Anders said smiling at her. His expression fell as a gust of cool evening air came with the opening of the tavern door. 

She looked over her shoulder, and there he was. Fenris made eye contact with her, smiled, went straight to the bar, talked to the bar tender, smiled at Marian again and then left. He might as well as taken the air of the entire room with him. He felt like a stranger, and the wound from the Arishock’s blade throbbed. She needed to drown the pain immediately.

“A round on me!” She said to the new barmaid placing a handful of silver in her hand. The barmaid’s eyes widened and rushed back to the bar.

“I guess I’ll stay then.” Anders sat back into his seat. 

Varric shook his head, “Last round for me, Hawke. I actually have things to do tomorrow.”

“What’s a tomorrow anyway?” Marian asked cracking a grin. The barmaid placed the fresh steins in front of the three and Marian chugged hers down in a precious few gulps. She waved a hand signal for a second drink. She started to feel like herself again.

“Maybe you should slow down a little. I’ve noticed you’re still struggling with your wound. Maybe you should come by the clinic tomorrow so I can take a look at your healing,” Anders said before taking a drink of his ale. 

Varric finished his ale in a few gulps and patted Marian on the head before retiring to his suite. She frowned, she hated it when he didn’t approve of her antics. But she was alone. Merrill was busy, Isabela had disappeared after the Qunari business finished, Fenris was focused on other things and practically a ghost. All she had was Aveline, who was busy with her husband when not on patrol, Varric, and Anders. She half considered joining the Grey Wardens just to be around her brother again. Being Champion wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Anders finished his ale and rose to his feet. “Thanks for the drink, Marian, but I best be going.”

“So you can just sit in your dirty dark clinic and hope some cats will find you? Have another round with me.” She pleaded, it was a playful prodding, but she didn’t want another night of drinking alone again.

He looked at her and sighed, sat back down. She knew she had some sway with him, and smiled at her influence working. The barmaid brought more ale.

“So…” Anders said. 

“So…” she replied.

She pulled a deck of cards from a pouch in her beige vest and began to shuffle.

“Oh no, I’m already going to owe Fenris money for the rest of my life, I can’t be in debt to you too.” He waved his hands in refusal. 

She grinned, drew a card, licked the back and stuck it face out on her forehead. “Let’s play another game then.”

He sighed with a smile and did the same. “What are the stakes?”

“If you win, I go back with you to the clinic and I let you check my wound,” she knocked back another ale. The barmaid brought four short clay cups with whiskey. “Since I’ve been avoiding your check ups.”

He lowered his eyebrows, “And if you win?”

“I give you money to pay off some of that debt.”

“That hardly seems like you winning,” Anders grimaced after finishing his first glass of whiskey.

“Maybe. Let’s play to find out.” She finished her whiskey and the game began.

A few hours later, Anders was supporting Marian as they staggered down the streets singing on their way to Darktown. They laughed and she only stumbled a little, despite her level of intoxication. The world hadn’t been so funny in a long time, and Anders wasn’t being a wet towel as Justice seemed to keep to himself for the evening so far. Anders struggled to unlock the door to his clinic a few times, she giggled wildly as she leaned up against the wall. She slid down to the ground. Something about being on the ground in Darktown was hilarious and Anders tried to shush her through his own laughter. He extended a hand and tried to pull her up, but she just pulled him down instead.

Eventually he regained his footing and succeeded in bringing her to her feet and helped her into the clinic. She hoisted herself onto the examination table, tittering uncontrollably. 

Anders cleared his throat and put on a serious face, which only fed her fit.

“Hawke,” he began.

“Please, my friends call me Marian.” 

He rolled his eyes stifling a giggle. “Marian. Please unbutton your vest so we can see that wound.”

“Oh, Anders, I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“That’s not what I meant… you know it.” He folded his arms across his chest. His drunk serious face was kind of cute, she thought. 

She struggled with the clasps for a moment and freed herself of her leather vest and her tunic with it leaving her in a cropped black silk camisole. Lifting the camisole she revealed the red and inflamed scar. The Arishock’s blade had been tipped with poison and her scar seemed to separate every few months. It looked like it was about to give again. 

With a somber expression, Anders gently touched he wound, shaking his head. “This is bad, Marian.”

She shrugged.

Anders muttered a few words as his eyes began to glow and he touched the wound to the lower right of her navel. A cooling sensation coursed through her, this was a different spell than he used before. His fingertips felt soft and warm. After a few minutes he let go and turned away from her. She grabbed his wrist. 

“Marian, this is unfair to me. I can’t keep pretending forever. You’re the very symbol of freedom, courage and conviction.” He shook her hand free and saw to his supplies across the room.

Despite her better judgement, there was something comforting about him she couldn’t shake. “Then don’t pretend. We’re here, now. Don’t you think it’s time to end this little game of cat and mouse? I’m here in your trap.” 

“Marian. You’re dunk, I’m drunk. Tomorrow there will be no undoing what’s been done.” Anders looked back at her across the room.

“I’m drunk, I’m lonely and let us sort out tomorrow when it arrives.” She watched him face away from her again. Everything had to be so damn complicated. She grabbed her tunic and pulled it back over her head and then her leather vest and coat. She wasn’t looking forward to the long walk back to Hightown in this state. It always had to be an ordeal. She was untouchable. 

She staggered toward the door, “Have a good night, Anders. Thanks for the healing.” 

He followed her to the clinic door and hung on the frame holding himself steady. Before she could pass through he barred the exit with his arm. Their gaze locked, and suddenly she found herself in his arms and their lips pressed together. 

***

The next morning Marian awoke with a headache she hadn’t experienced in years. The throbbing, intense and made her vision unable to focus. The room smelled unfamiliar, it wasn’t her bed she was in. Someone had their arm around her waist and she was naked. Oh no. 

She rapidly blinked to regain her vision and it wasn’t Fenris’s mansion either. This was bad. What did she do? A wave of nausea crashed over her. She struggled to remember the night. 

Moon wanted... a walk. She began recounting the events, afraid to turn over and see who she spent the night with. Her eyes focused more. Darktown... the clinic. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Maker’s balls. 

She realized she spent the night with Anders. This was bad. She tried to remember more... the night was good. Really good. Really really good. Oh no. Flashes, moments. Fenris can’t find out. 

What was wrong? There she was in the arms of a lover who actually wanted her. But it was the wrong arms. This wasn’t the first time she took things too far, the Inn in Lothering was the first place she awoke from the same kind of disaster. The disaster of her actions. At least this time it was someone she knew. 

Slipping off his arm and rolling out of the taupe linens she landed on all fours on the floor. The room spun and her mouth was suddenly rushing with saliva. Frantic she looked around the room, seeing the open window to the canals below she darted to window and emptied the contents of her stomach. Looking up she could see the Twins mocking her with their frozen faces hidden behind metal hands. Emptying her guts a few more times, she noticed Anders hadn’t moved. 

Staggering around the room she found her clothes scattered everywhere. Unable to find her under garments she scolded herself and pulled on her leather breaches, trying not to fall over, put on her blouse and began fastening her vest. 

From behind she felt arms embrace her and soft lips against her neck. Had this been any other person, they would’ve received a bone cracking elbow to the ribs, but she was too hungover and pity felt like a knot in her throat.

“Leaving so soon? I was hoping I could convince you back into bed for a little while longer...” Anders whispered in her ear. It sent a chill down her spine at the same time as annoyed her. 

Taking his hand she spun around, he wore the sheet wrapped around his waist. She frowned. He was handsome, and sweet. But this wasn’t right. 

“Anders...”

“You can’t tell me you don’t want more? I’ve dreamed of last night since we met. You are perfect. You’re the beacon of hope in this world of treachery.”

Both of her hands encapsulated his and she brought his knuckles to her lips and then let his hand go. “Anders, thank you for being a really good friend last night. It was really fun, and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy myself, because I did.”

“Marian?” A look of panic washed across his face.

“But it was just two people having fun. I’m sorry, but it won’t happen again. It can’t happen again, we want different things. If I thought you could be casual, then I would accept your invitation, but I can’t. I’m not the person you’re looking for.”

His flaxen eyebrows lowered to a scowl. “You can’t still be hung up on Fenris? After he left you?Is that it? There’s no way you can’t feel anything for me... after last night.”

The mention of his name stung. She ignored the jab, only solidifying her decision. “Anders, I was drunk and horny. I’m not interested in a relationship with anyone. I’m a mess. You’re basically two people in one more interested in Revolution than me. I’m just an idea to you, and I appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me. If things were different, then maybe. But this was just one more bad decision I made because I pushed the boundary of our relationship and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She picked her coat off the ground and pushed her arm through each sleeve.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed more.” She could hear the heartbreak in his voice.

“Bye Anders, and if you so breathe a word of this to anyone, Maker save you,” she said facing away from him and fled the clinic. She had regained some mobility since whatever healing he did the night before. 

Practically kicking down the door to her estate she found Fenris playing with Moon by the fireplace. Feeling like garbage and smelling like the Hanged Man she gave zero shits about the awkwardness between her and the elf and immediately hugged him, a little too tight. His body tensed and he placed his hands on her back and dug his face into her neck.

“Bodahn said you didn’t come home, I was worried. I’m sorry I was rude last night, I didn’t mean it.” 

“I know,” she whispered and let go. “I was out being stupid, again. I’m going to take a break from drinking for the month... I need to live up to being a Champion.”

“Marian, you already are a Champion. There is no right way to be,” he said. His large eyes softened. 

“Reading lesson Tuesday? I would like to stay and entertain you, but I need to bathe. I slept in a corner at the Hanged Man and I feel like a spit bucket.” She smiled, even though their dynamic was strained, he felt like the keel to her ship. The counterbalance. The displacement. She realized she was using sailing metaphors and missed Isabela.

“I would like that very much,” he cracked a smile. Her worries and shame melted. 

“In a few weeks, would you want to do some sparring with me? I need to get my ass kicked,” she grinned. Then wrinkled her nose smelling a whiff of her breath. Ugh she was disgusting. 

“Only if you promise not to use magic this time,” he chuckled. 

As she ascended the stairs she groaned, “Fine...” A pocket of hope seeded in her chest, maybe there was a future to be had. Even though she made bad decisions sometimes. 


	3. Fever - Between II & III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian contracts a fever while sobering up. Sebastian visits to aid a friend in a dark moment.

Hiding in the back bedroom for the last two weeks, Marian only emerged to give Fenris his reading lesson, which she ended early because the shakes became too intense to hide. Fenris didn’t protest her early departure, she knew he knew what she was experiencing he helped walk her home. 

The fireplace glowed with the calming crackle, her head screamed at all sound and light. Aveline brought a horrid tonic she made her drink. It ended up being regurgitated into the chamber pot not long after she consumed it, but managed to keep it down until she left. Varric didn’t visit, Merrill didn’t notice, Anders stayed away, as she insisted. She was sure her torture wouldn’t end.

A creak at the door and the light clanking of armor signaled someone’s presence. “I can’t do it today, Aveline... I’m sorry.” Marian groaned hiding her head beneath her pillow.

“I’m sorry, Hawke. I’m no guard captain. I know you probably don’t want to hear the chant of light right now, neither did I, when I was in your state.” The thick Starkhaven accent was soft and soothing. Sebastian took a seat on the edge of the bed. “But I have suffered, not completely unlike you.”

“No Andraste now please, Seb,” she gurgled and coughed.

“Promise. I have here some cool cloths for your forehead. I think they will help. You appear to have developed a fever with your recovery. You really should call on Anders for help.”

She peeked her head out from the pillow and made a whining sound. No. No Anders. “If I’m to meet the Maker, then so be it, but I will not have that man in my house.”

“Come, roll over, obstinate one.” Sebastian pushed her over by gently touching her shoulder and from a satchel he placed an herbal soaked cloth on her forehead. It felt cool and like the Maker’s gentle hand. Maybe these religious folks weren’t so bad.

“You can’t tell my secrets, right?” She asked. She needed to talk to someone, and no one wanted to hear her problems. Especially not the ones she created. 

“If this is a confession, then no. And if this is just between friends, then I won’t. It’s not my business to spread the happenings of the lives of others.” He smiled and took her hand with a gentle touch.

“You’re going to think really little of me. I’m not really good at... just don’t judge me?” She looked up at him. The lamp in the background made it appear like there was a halo around his head. If there was a Maker, he really did favor this Prince.

“I don’t think any judgement of mine could be worse than the judgement you dole upon yourself,” he said, his thumb gently caressed the back of her hand. He had a way with the sick and weary. They must teach them  something at the Chantry.

“I was sad, because Fenris left me. I saw him, and it just made it all hurt again. I’ve been drinking a lot since the whole Qunari thing... there was a lot of pain I just didn’t want to feel. Long story short, I slept with Anders out of desperation to feel *something* and now I’m sick with a fever and trying to get sober. But the Maker hates me because I think with my heart and not with my head.” She sniffled as she spoke and her eyes stung as they welled with tears. 

“I don’t think it was your heart you were thinking with, Marian,” Sebastian gently joked.

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” She tried sitting up and he pressed her back to the pillow. 

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair. Wanting things we can’t have is a torture. I now understand why you refuse to seek Anders’ aid. He didn’t take that it was only one night well, did he?” He changed out the cloth for a fresh one. 

“No. He didn’t. He wanted it to be more than me being drunk and stupid.” She sad up and began to sob. Sebastian held her close, his armor felt cool against her hot cheek and head. 

“What is so wrong with me? Why can’t I be enough for him? I would wade through all of hell, I don’t know why. But to love me and leave me? I can fight anything. Am I so broken? I can duel the leader of the Qunari and win, but I can’t make him love me. I’m no champion. I’m a farce.”

“Shh, shh, now. Marian. You know life is more complicated than battle. Love, is the most complex entity the Maker gave us. You should feel blessed to care so much for another. That’s the Maker’s work right there.”

“It’s the Maker’s joke, to love and be left wanting. Love is a joke.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“Give him time. You have no idea what terrors he faced to bring him here. Give yourself time. Maybe you need to find what brings you joy, that’s not drink and other people.”

“All I’ve done since we came to Kirkwall is live to fight for my family’s safety. Lots of good that did. There’s no one left.” Marian looked over at the glowing logs. She was sweating from her own body fighting infection. 

“Maybe that’s the problem, everyone asks a lot of you. We all do. You solve everyone’s problems, with a smile and a joke no less. But you also take all the pain and violence. Let us take care of you for a while.” He stacked some pillows and guided her back upon them. He replaced the forehead cloth with another one. 

“How? Everyone always needs me. I’m the strong one. I’m always the one.” Her last words to her mother rang through her foggy mind like a lantern in the mists.

“You’re not the strong one right now, and that’s okay. Let me do what the Chantry taught me. I will hold vigil by your side until you’re well. It’s the least I can do, after all you’ve done for me.” 

“Okay. Chant away, choir boy.” She cracked a smile for the first time in weeks. 

He took her hand into his again, and began to recite:

_ Many are those who wander in sin, _

_ Despairing that they are lost forever, _

_ But the one who repents, who has faith _

_ Unshaken by the darkness of the world, _

_ And boasts not, nor gloats _

_ Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight _

_ In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know _

_ The peace of the Maker's benediction. _

_ The Light shall lead her safely _

_ Through the paths of this world, and into the next. _

_For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water._

_As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,_

_She should see fire and go towards Light._

_The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,_

_And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker_

_Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword._


	4. A Date with The Carta -Between Act I & II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Gamlen got involved in a scheme to resale eels from the Merchant’s Guild, the Carta are sent to Marian’s estate to get what they’re owed.
> 
> This story takes place between Act 1& II

The heavy oak door to the Hawke-Amell estate swung open. Wind howled through the port signaling the arrival of the five armored dwarves from the Cart bursting in, weapons in hand. Marian Hawke sat in front of a table situated in front of the fireplace, with Isabela, Varric, Fenris and Anders seated around with their hands holding cards.

“Ah! Just in time, Varric, deal our friends in, they don’t want to miss this round!” Marian greeted the infiltrators. Moon, the mabari sat up but disinterested he flopped back down beside the fire.

The dwarves looked at each other, confusion marked their expressions as they sheathed their weapons, their daggers glinting in the glow of the lanterns.

One by one, they filed into the main room, a rather bare space since Hawke had only obtained the manor about six months prior. Growing the funds to the furnish the estate beyond the minimum to keep her mother comfortable wasn’t quite yet feasible. Once Varric got buyers for the rest of the loot from the expedition to the deep roads, things would change.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Leandra scolded her daughter, whispering in her ear.

An impish grin spread across Marian’s face, “Thanks for the bode of confidence, mom,” she whispered back. Leandra pulled out one of the empty chairs gesturing for the intruders to sit and retreated to her back room.

Marian caught Fenris’s green eyes narrowed and cold at the guests joining their game, they exchanged glanced, he gestured with his eyebrows and a tilt of his head indicating he wanted to speak with her alone.

“Excuse me gentlemen, I’m going to grab some drinks for our game, we can’t play cards parched, can we?” Marian said before excusing herself, “Fenris?”

Despite the dwarves’ visible reticence, took seats at the empty chairs. One spoke up and said, “Well of course, we can’t play without something to drink.”

Leading Fenris to the kitchen, Marian began grabbing mugs and handed him a large growler of ale. He pouted.

“Marian, this is dangerous, you should reconsider keeping our weapons so far. What if they don’t get involved in the game?” He protested holding the gallon of ale.

“What do you think that’s for? Just you and me?” She gestured at the growler.

“No, I didn’t think it was just for us, and if you wanted to drink you know I’ve still got a stocked cellar and plenty of weapons to keep Carta at bay.”

Smiling, she poked him on the tip of his nose, “You’re cute when you’re worried. Don’t worry, I’ll come over later this week and we can work on emptying your cellar and play sharp pointy things. Come on, before they get suspicious.”

“Marian!” He protested.

Seeing Fenris’s cheeks flush a deep crimson made her smile even wider. In her head she sang, _he likes me, he likes me_. She was grateful Carver wasn’t there to comment on it. 

“Now that’s what I call ale!” One of the dwarves exclaimed at seeing Fenris bring the growler and Marian carrying the stacked mugs.

Marian dolled out the mugs while Fenris filled them, they returned to their seats beside each other. This was a tactical decision as well as a strategic one. She and Fenris worked out a system of lightly kicking each other to send messages so they could communicate through the game, they spent enough time fighting and sparring together they were ready to spring into action at a moments notice. She could cast a freezing spell while he grabbed his sword tied to the other side of the bannister on the stairs. The strategic part was she was able to sit next to the one who made her feel fluffy on the inside and couldn’t get enough of his company. The long game.

“All right, let the game begin, everyone check your cards!” Varric declared while picking up his hand.

The dwarven guests and the rest of the table did the same. Isabela snorted a laugh. Anders slumped in his chair grumbling, Varric grinned, the dwarves all looked serious, everything was going as planned.

Marian was right, if the Carta barged into a game of Wicked Grace, they would likely postpone the attempted murder for at least a few rounds. Enough to get them drunk and sloppy. Everyone drew again.

“Maker’s ass!” Anders lamented throwing down his hand, “Angel of Death.”

Sitting up to get a better view of everyone’s hand, Marian looked back at Fenris, who’s resting serious expression appeared to not register his winning hand.

“How does he always win?” Anders cursed the ceiling, leaning back in his seat.

“I won?” Fenris asked.

“You don’t have to play so coy about it, another round, Marian?” Isabela asked holding up her empty mug and gestured at the deck of cards with the cup.

“Varric doesn’t get to deal, Fenris always wins when Varric deals. Make Marian do it, she’ll be more impartial,” Anders insisted.

“I don’t know what table you’re sitting at, Anders, but I highly doubt there’s an impartial bone in her- Ow! What the hell, Marian?” Isabela griped.

“Yeah, let the host deal!” One of the guest dwarves insisted.

“All right, all right. So, do you fellas have names? I’m Marian, this is Fenris, that’s Varric, you probably already know that, and then there’s Anders and Isabela.” Marian began to shuffle the deck and dealt hands to the table.

“I’m Gerakin, that’s Bawan, Madelor, Hirel, and Lorick.” Gerakin introduced his raiding party.

“Very nice to meet you boys. Shall we?” Marian resumed her seat after Fenris assisted in filling everyone’s mugs again.

The game continued for three more rounds before Aveline kicked in the door with an entourage of guards. The dwarves went drunk, happy and surprisingly peaceful with the captain of the guard. After Hawke’s hospitality it seemed there wasn’t much of an appetite for destruction or murder. It helped Bawan won a round, between Fenris’s uncanny luck.

“I can’t believe that actually worked, Hawke.” Varric shook his head on his way out, following Aveline because, of course, he needed the rest of this tale. Anders departed shortly after, a little poorer than he expected to depart.

This left Isabela, Fenris and Marian with the remaining quarter of the growler of ale.

“Well, I don’t think this will keep, so you two want to keep playing while we kill the bottle?” Marian asked, satisfied one of her craziest plans actually panned out.

“Sure, but no more miss nice Captain. I’m coming for my money, Fenris.” Isabela sat down at the table shuffling the cards.

“Take it if you dare, but you’ll have to win it.” Fenris grinned after refilling his friend’s glasses.

“Challenge accepted! Also, what color are your underpants?”

“Isabela!” Marian erupted almost snorting ale through her nose.

“What? Do you know? How do _you_ know?” Isabela dealt the next round.

“She doesn’t know. But you just slipped a card out of your glove,” Fenris observed.

“I swear you’re acting like it’s the first time you played cards with me. Blue?” Isabela took a card from the pile. 

“No.” Fenris replied, taking a card.

“Red?” Isabela guessed.

“No.” 

“Purple?”

Fenris looked over his cards across the table with a grin, “…Not even close.”

“Black?”

Marian sat back in her chair cherishing the moment. Nothing like spending the evening fighting crime with friends using a deck of cards and some ale. Feeling satisfied and happy she giggled to herself, holding a winning hand. Fenris tapped the top of her foot on purpose.


	5. Carver’s Birthday- Act 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celebration of Carver Hawke’s Birthday at the Hanged Man.

“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! You look like a Mabari and smell like one too!” Marian sang as she placed a sweet roll with a tiny candle in front of it before her brother. The rest of gang at the Hanged Man sang the song with the appropriate lyrics, but Marian’s voice was always able to cut through the mix and annoy her only brother.

The rouging of Carver’s cheeks matched the red of Varric’s tunic before blowing out the candle.

“What did you wish for, little Hawke?” Isabela leaned forward, in a suggestive manner, resting her elbows on the table.

“It better not be a job with guard, you know I can’t do that,” Aveline said folding her arms.

“Go easy on him, big girl, it’s his birthday.” Isabela countered.

“I think you’re going easy enough for all Kirkwall—“

“Ladies!” Marian shouted at her friends, sighing. She knew this had been a rough year and half for her brother, and between living between Gamlen and mom’s fighting, she didn’t need their new friends taking more attention from her brother.

“This isn’t much, but I hoped you would like it with your swording.” Merrill handed Carver a small cloth wrapped package. He opened it revealing a set of leather gloves.

“Merrill, thank you.” Carver obviously struggled with what to say to the plucky elf. Marian enjoyed seeing her brother squirm with feelings, he never did know what to say to girls he fancied. It was a good thing he inherited father’s chin, she thought, otherwise he would never get anywhere.

The rest of the gifts were useful bits for her brother, Fenris gave him a new whetstone, Aveline paid for a few rounds at the Hanged Man, Isabela, to Marian’s dismay, gave him a coupon for a free night at the Blooming Rose, and Varric slipped him a small pouch when he assumed Marian wasn’t looking, which of course she was.

Seeing Carver relish in being the center of attention, Marian joined the white haired elf against the back wall.

“Do  you have a birthday I should know?” Marian asked, wishing she had something better to talk about.

Fenris almost choked on his drink, shaking his head. “Maybe, it depends on why you want to know.”

“Oh, I was going to use this information to sell to evil Magisters and torment you with doom.” She wiggled her fingers in his face emphasizing the word  doom .

He scowled at her.

She bumped his arm with her shoulder as she slide back next to him. “Or maybe I want to know when I should be planning to give you a gift.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, you give me employment and share drinks and cards with me on occasion. That’s more than sufficient,” Fenris replied. He seemed a little lost for words.

“Maybe I want to give you a gift. You know, for being a good friend.” She smiled, beaming at him. She couldn’t shake why she felt so drawn to his company, it made her feel juvenile and clumsy.

“I’m...a good friend?” He asked, lifting his gaze from his beverage to hers. Isabela was right, his eyes were an impossible green.

“Oh yes. You go on crazy adventures with me, give me somewhere to retreat to when I need to escape Gamlen’s house, and you haven’t killed me yet for being a mage. Even though I’m quite aware it’s a huge knock against my likability in your eyes. I don’t blame you, I never met a Tevinter mage I liked. Always _blood magic this_ and _stupid ideas that._ ”

Fenris grinned. “Okay, okay. Well, how about you guess. And if you get it right, you may throw me a birthday celebration. Until then, your... presence is enough of a gift.”

“Oh really now?” She inched closer and pretended to be a wilting damsel by placing her hands under her chin and fluttering her eyelashes before devolving into a laugh.

“Why aren’t you carousing about with everyone else here? I can’t be that interesting.”

“You’ve seen yourself right?” She took his beverage from his hands and sipped its yeasty contents.

“I’m aware of my appearance.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“Looks, sure. But I don’t know any other articulate white haired elves who are a demon on the battlefield and despite my worst qualities, hasn’t turned me in to the Templars. You also have a wonderful wine cellar you sometimes share with me.”

“If I turned you in I would have to enjoy that cellar alone, which would be—“

Anders approached the two.

“Fenris.” Anders greeted Fenris with a cold glare.

“Mage.” Fenris repaid Anders’s warmth with an equally icy look.

“Hawke, your brother is getting quite drunk, you might want to get him home before he gets carried away,” Anders recommended.

“How drunk?” Marian asked, surveying the situation from her corner.

“He’s telling the dragon joke,  as the dragon.” Anders sighed and returned to the table where the rest of the companions were celebrating.

“Yep. Probably time to go.” Hawke agreed and turned back to Fenris handing him his mug back. She took a step backward toward her brother and friends and away from him.

He looked down at his now empty mug. “You’re leaving for the Deep Roads soon?” Fenris asked, giving her a reason to linger a few moments longer.

“Yeah, are you sure you don’t want to come along? I would appreciate your company.”

“Thank you, Hawke, but I have some plans to go after local slavers and its important I follow through. It’s also smart to bring the Warden with you, Darkspawn are their element.”

Sticking out her bottom lip in disappointment, “Your answer is incredibly reasonable. I’ll have lots of stories to tell you when I return anyway.”

“I look forward to hearing them.”

Hearing a loud crash, Marian whipped around to see her drunken Goliath of a brother beneath a stack of chairs and Isabela sitting on top of the pile, laughing.

“Maker’s breath.” She breathed, grinning. “Give me a hand?” She asked Fenris.

“Of course.” He put down the mug on a nearby table and joined her.

Together they pulled Isabela off the mound of upturned furnishings on top of Carver and Marian grabbed her brother’s hand and struggled to get him to his feet.

“Time to go, brother.” Marian maneuvered herself under Carver’s arm and hoisted him up.

“Sister! I’m a dragon! Rawr! I was in my lair. I had a Princess.” Carver hiccuped and slurred his speech.

“Also, that’s a pirate, not a princess,” Marian said. Carver’s drunken mass made every step nearly impossible.

“Way to ruin the party, Marian!” Isabela folded her arms, pouting.

Sighing, Marian staggered a few steps holding up her brother, his chaotic movements making the smallest forward progress nigh impossible.

Suddenly, Fenris appeared on the other side of Carver helping Marian drag her brother, taking half of her brother’s dead and drunken weight from her shoulders.

Together they drug Carver to Gamlen’s house and tucked him into bed, only stopping a few times for him to cry and protest going home. It took about an hour to make the trip because he fought his escorts efforts at every turn.

After successfully getting Carver to bed, Marian walked Fenris out.

“May I visit you before we depart for the Deep Roads? A last card game for the stupid and reckless?” She asked, looking for reasons to keep the night alive.

He smiled and nodded, agreeing. “I would like that. Have a good night, Marian. Thank you for the conversation.”

They waved farewell, and she watched him leave, waiting until he was out of sight before going back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Joke Carver tells a variation on:
> 
> One day a monstrous dragon attacks a village, slaughters everything, all the livestock and makes off with the lord’s prized mount.
> 
> Furious, the lord organizes a search party of the Noblest knights to slay the beast and avenge his steed.
> 
> The knights follow the blood trail through the misty forest to the base of a nearby mountain. 
> 
> The knights have no choice but to follow the blood up the mountain. The higher they climb the more blood they find. Blood everywhere, so much blood. 
> 
> The youngest knight is confused and asks, “why doesn’t the dragon just fly away?”
> 
> The oldest knight in the party shakes his head, narrows his eyes, spits, and throws the young knight a hard look then swings his sword toward the blood trail, emphasizing his point.
> 
> “Obvious ain’t it? It’s a drag’n!”


	6. Penance March/ Bad Trip - Post Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Inquisition, Marian has been unable to find Fenris which leads her down a spiral of depression. Unable to link up with her friends, she’s alone and without resources.
> 
> TW: Depression, hallucinations

She wasn’t sure how long she had been walking. Her search, when became fruitless became a penance. About a year into her search for Fenris it became a trudge of something else. A pilgrimage without a destination.

Somehow, no one knew where the angry elf with glowing tattoos and white hair went. He was a ghost, his presence left only whispers of a vengeful wraith. She knew better than to travel to Tevinter where the trail appeared to go, the former Champion of Kirkwall was high on the bounty list with more organizations she could count. Not to mention everyone in the Marches, Orlais,and Ferelden who blamed her for the entire Mage Templar War due to affiliation with Anders.

The war wasn’t her fault, but it might as well have been. She saw the signs of Anders’ growing instability and desperation and she sat on her hands. Just like her mother, not vetting her suitors, paying more attention. She should have pursued Ninette’s killer harder. Checked in with Emeric sooner. Should have, could have, would have. All of her best intentions led to disaster, despite time and time again trying for the opposite.

Pebbles and grit rubbed against her calloused and blistered feet, as the soles of her shoes were eroded from the road. She abandoned her fine and war worthy attire for a peasant’s tunic and trousers to trade for food and drink. The food was rancid and the drink only dulled her mind instead of quenching her thirst. Her staff was reduced to a simple walking stick, another trade for sustenance. She wondered why she was even holding on anymore. What for?

Merrill had left Kirkwall in search of treasures for a people long forgotten. Isabela returned to a life on the seas, wild, free and far enough to be forever out of reach. Aveline had responsibilities which made her unable to render attention or aid after the Chantry explosion. Sebastian had matters to attend to in his own kingdom. Anders, if he wasn’t dead, had disappeared as she intended. Varric, her closest friend was busy running an empire of his own creation, a Viscount and businessman. The one who she longed for the most was little more than a rumor or a vapor. 

She deserved this, she told herself. This penance.

* * *

_ “Marian, come with me, we can build a life away from everyone, from all of this. You killed Corypheus once, you can’t keep trying to fix everything. You didn’t break the world, Marian.” Fenris dropped his arms at his side. The conversation had become increasingly heated since Varric’s letter arrived.  _

_ She frowned, she wanted his dream of a home, but the call to help wasn’t something she could ignore. _

_ “But if I don’t do something, who will?” she asked, she reached for his hand but he snapped it away. The gesture hurt more than any words could. _

_ “Maybe that ‘Herald of Andraste’ woman Varric wrote about. Fine. Then let me go with you. Who will look out for your interests when you’re trying to save all of bloody Thedas? What happens if you die? You made a promise to me. What about us? What about what I want?” His voice grew louder in intensity. _

_“No. I don’t want to endanger you, like I always do. Please let me do this, and when I get back we’ll run away to Antiva or Rivain, somewhere no one knows us. We have plenty of money, we can buy a place and live like kings!” She pleaded. Things were spiralling out of control. Just like everything in her life always had._

_ “If I wake up, and you’re gone tomorrow, then don’t expect to find me here when you get back galavanting around. I’m not your pet, you can’t just keep me.” He snapped. _

_“Fenris, this isn’t fair. I have responsibilities. We didn’t kill Corypheus, I thought we did, we were wrong. I can’t put you in harm’s way over my mistakes.” She folded her arms across her chest._

_“It’s called love, you do things you wouldn’t do otherwise. But it seems you love all of Thedas more than you love me, and it’s not like you haven’t spread yourself all over Kirkwall enough already.” He turned from her. Her eyes stung as they welled. The last jab was sharp._

_She touched his shoulder and he shrugged it off, pivoting away. “Good night, Marian.”_

* * *

There’s consequences to your actions, and she paid for her present with her past. Her eyes searched the horizon, a mostly green deciduous forest in the valley below. She wasn’t sure which forest it was, having not paid attention to the terrain over the last few weeks. The previous few months were spent trekking through the arid and windy Vimmark Mountains. The Marches began the blur into repetitive washes of brown and green. 

More thoughts of past conversations screamed through her mind, remembering every moment one of her jokes wasn’t wanted, her help only hurt people, and how many decisions she made which only led her here. A wandering beggar, a wandering  drunk beggar when she could manage it, and alone. No one cared when she apologized for every indiscretion, or attempted to make amends. Why was every one of her friends and lovers afforded forgiveness, yet when she needed it there was none? Now, it had been so long she wasn’t sure any of them were real. Maybe these were all delusions she invented after the trauma of losing her family in the Blight. 

No, Carver was a Warden. A Warden Commander at that, finally someone important. He always wanted to be important. She was happy he got what he wanted, even if it meant letting another dream of his go… which brought thoughts of her time in the Fade. Nightmare’s words shouldn’t have hurt her as much as they did, but they didn’t matter in the end. Everyone except Stroud made 

Everyone seemed to get what they wanted, or needed. The Maker had no more plans for her, she was certain. She wasn’t so sure there was a Maker anyway, having seen his house from afar. What god what live there? What heavenly kingdom looks like twisted formations and mockeries of the real world? 

A missed step caused her to stumble and fall, she tumbled down the path to a gully of mud. She struggled to her feet, but her get up and go wasn’t there. Pushing down on her hands below her shoulders she fell back into the mud when they gave way. Her muscles felt like fraying rope under a load which was too heavy to bare. 

There’s a joke in here somewhere, she thought to herself. She thought about how funny she was once, making even the broodiest of her companions smile. 

She struggled to her hands and knees. Just a meter away she saw some mushrooms sprouted beside the path, they were bright and inviting, and she hadn’t eaten in so long. Dragging herself to the patch she ripped them from the ground and stuffed her mouth. The food was the ambrosia of feasts past. Another push of effort left her leaning against the trunk of a mighty conifer. 

Looking up at the canopy of emerald needles and branches, they began to dance in the breeze. Soon, the colors began to swirl and each branch leapt from the tree and turned into the faces of her friends.

Isabela twirled over to her singing a shanty, “Marian, Marian, you’ve come home to stay, heave away, heave away, heave away!”

Merrill was merged with her mirror, with her face inside the glass and her arms and legs sticking out. She swayed with Isabela. 

Another branch grew into Carver, “Hello, sister. Feeling low? Now you know what it’s like to be me!” He joined hands with Isabela and Merrill.

Anders appeared in the mirror with Varric and Merrill pulled them out with her arms. They tumbled like balls and sprang to their feet. 

“Isn’t it time you told a story, Hawke?” Varric asked. His eyebrows were wrong, but she was happy to see him.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, she turned and looked to see Fenris. “You came back for me,” Marian said. She didn’t want to cry, she was supposed to be so happy to see her friends.

“Marian, you’ve been making some mistakes, haven’t you?” Fenris questioned, his face was serious and she began to feel afraid. The tone of the song started to feel like mocking. 

“She’s done it again, come on Fenris, she’s not ready for us.” Hearing Aveline’s voice, Marian whipped her head around to see the angry guard now standing side by side with Fenris. They both shook their heads.

Marian crawled toward them on her hands and knees, “Please tell me what I’ve done! I’m sorry! Please forgive me! Fenris, don’t let me go! I won’t go! The Inquisition doesn’t need my help!”

“But Marian, the Inquisition is over. Corypheus is dead, you can’t go backwards in time. You made a choice, you must live with it.” Fenris replied stepping away from her as she reached out to him with wild arms.

The closer she got to her friends the further they became and she began to feel hot. The warmer she felt the more the colors from the world around her faded. Something felt wrong, and the world went black.

In the great void she heard a gravelly male voice, “Oh no. What’s that in her hand? Maker’s breath. False Morels. Hang on there, lady. We’ll get you some help. Just hang on. Andraste, protect this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there folks, there’s good times coming. Promise.
> 
> It’s always better to reach out to friends/ anyone when you’re depressed or at the bottom. Not every terrible moment lasts forever, even when it feels like the present can’t ever change. It does. Asking for help isn’t weakness. Don’t be like Marian. She’s a cautionary tale, not an example.


	7. Validity -Post Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Inquisition:  
> Marian awakes from her accidental poisoning in familiar company.

Anders left for his daily foraging trip from his tiny cabin in the woods between Tantervale and Wintervale. Since the rebellion he took on a new name, Nithan as an ode to a Nathan he once knew in the Wardens, a good man. The kind of man he wanted to become.

His humble cottage saw many visitors since he hung his apothecary sign, selling herbs and poultices to weary travelers. Justice objected to the nature of some of the potions, specifically ones with the intention to lure mates as they were deceptive in nature and mostly cured indigestion. There was no such thing as a love potion. But a less gassy suitor did often fair better in their efforts.

Justice was silenced as these concoctions kept silver flowing and allowed them to live a quiet and comfortable life. He grew a short, well groomed, beard and wore his hair in a long flaxen braid down his back to change his infamous outline to keep his identity safe. He swapped out his robes for huntsman’s trousers and tunics which were better for his active life of foraging, hunting and brewing.

He refused to do magic. This caused strife with Justice, and there were patients, those in need he allowed to die. Marian once gave him a shot at another life, and he took it. This was a good life.

Despite his remote location, he was rarely lonely. Company would come from all over to purchase his infamous goods, and sometimes when they were the right kind of attractive, he would share his bed.

He missed the deeper connections of his friends from Kirkwall, but he knew better than to ruminate or pine. Marian killed Anders that day. She broke her vows against bloodmagic, to save his life. It didn’t make sense, why should she spare him after all he made her an accomplice to? After how vindictive he became after they spent one perfect night together. She was just one person, but after Karl, she was everything to him, and  nothing to her. And despite everything, she still chose to save him. He couldn’t think about it, he refused to think about it. Some scars were best left raised and ignored.

After spending a balmy, fruitful afternoon gathering Elfroot and chanterelle mushrooms, he returned to his cabin. Upon approaching he saw Hagen, an elderly client whom he routinely gave potions for his arthritis, dragging a figure to his doorstep.

The feeble old man struggled with each step, dragging the mud caked figure. The sight alone troubled Anders, but it was the look on Hagen’s face made him worry.

“Hagen! What’s the trouble?” Anders called out, picking up his pace.

“Nithan! Thank the Maker! You must help, I found this poor soul bleeding through her eyes and nose on the side of the road. She had a handful of false morels in her hand. She’s had bad mushrooms, you must help her! She’s at the Maker’s door!” Hagen used a rag to wipe the bloody vomit from the woman’s face.

Anders blood turned to ice, he recognized her face immediately. With trembling hands he unlocked the door and helped the old man drag her inside with a grunt he hoisted her on the table. She was too light. This was bad.

“Hagen, I’m going to need you to leave. Come back in two days time, but this will take all of my attention and I need quiet.” Anders barked instructions, trying to assuage his growing panic.

“Nithan- I can—“ the man stuttered.

“Go!” Anders shouted, the sound rung in a short echo. The following silence was deafening.

The old man cowered and slunk out the door closing it behind him.

She’s too far gone , Justice cautioned. He shook his head in disbelief. No, he could still save her, but this was going to take more than herbs and potions this time. He needed his magic. 

Pulling a dagger from his pant leg he stabbed it into his hand and drew from the Fade harder than any time before. It was going to take a lot of work.

* * *

“Who are you and why do you look like Anders with a beard?” Marian coughed in spasms between her words. She felt like death, which was strange because she  wasn’t dead. This looked nothing like the Fade, and none of her family was there. She frowned, disappointed. She was still alive. Death couldn’t hurt like this.

“Maybe it’s because I am Anders with a beard.” The man replied.

She blinked repeatedly, struggling to clear her foggy vision. It sounded like Anders, from what she remembered. It had been five years since she saw him last. It didn’t seem possible.

“Don’t stress yourself. You’re safe here, you saved my life, the least I can do it save yours, again.”

Her limbs felt like they were tied down with weights. A symptom of her fragile state. Weakly, she lifted her arm and touched his face, digging her fingers into his beard and gave a faint smile.

“It feels like Moon’s fur. I like it.”

Placing his hand over hers, pressing it into his cheek, before lowering it back down. “You know better than to touch me that way, Marian.”

“Do I?” She smiled weakly. “Who knows what I know anymore, I’m sorry. I’m just so happy to see a familiar face after so long.” Her eyes stung as they welled. She still felt as dry as the Western Approach, though her time there was years past. The vast sand dunes felt like her soul.

“Rest, Hawke. We have lots to share when you’re better.” The world went dark, his words being the last thing she remembered.

* * *

Resuming his normal business and tending to a very sick Marian kept Anders busier than he had been in years. Feeling needed gave him a joy he missed. Spending time with someone who had spent so many years beside him, albeit conflicted and difficult years, felt like an injection of life into his existence. He came up with new and different potions and poultices to sell to his customers, which drove his business. The month had passed quick.

Hagen visited routinely to check up on the woman he saved from death, spreading the word of Anders’ alchemical prowess. She was good to never mention the magic he used to save her life.

Anders and Marian talked about the fun times of the past, Isabela, Merrill, Varric, Sebastian and Carver. There was one person they both omitted from their discussions, a courtesy they paid each other.

He was happy to see her gain a little weight from the skeletal state she arrived in at his doorstep. She began to look like Marian again, her long black hair was a look he still tried to get used to. In the before times, it only ever made it to her shoulders before she would grow frustrated and lob it off again and again. He missed Kirkwall, but he knew that was a place forever forbidden to him. He missed a time which didn’t exist any longer.

Holding a steaming cup of elfroot tea, he brought it to her bedside. She was able to get up and move around in short bursts now, but grew tired and weary fast. He assumed she knew better to spot safe mushrooms, but whatever drove her this far away from all the places she could call home, there was a bigger story. He knew better than to push it, despite wanting to know.

“My number one selling mix, elfroot tea. Simple, but most people don’t cure it correctly so it comes out bitter,” He said taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

“It smells wonderful, you’ve really turned yourself into quite the craftsman,  Anders , I mean Nithan.” She grinned, sitting up cross legged. He couldn’t help but notice how lovely and gamine she looked in his spare tunics and gardening trousers.

“I have you to thank. Everyone assumed I was dead, no one has come looking. It’s been a simple and good life. Can’t say I ever thought I would see you again.” He meant what he said, the old frustrations long extinguished. There was an unexpected comfort in her presence.

“Waking up to you was one of the bigger surprises of my life, and honestly a  welcome one. It had been sometime since I had seen a familiar face, one who had wanted to see me, anyway.” Marian’s glowing smile faded.

“I find that difficult to believe. You might be one of the most liked people in Thedas.” Seeing her expression fall further with his words, he changed the subject. “You’ve always been welcome in my home, and you always shall be. Do you have plans for when you’re feeling like yourself again?” He asked, thankful for Justice’s silence.

She looked out at the window and sighed, “I don’t. All of my plans have been washed away, again and again.”

“Maybe you should stop writing them onto sandy shorelines,” he replied with a smile. He knew his humor was a reach, but he wanted to see her face light up again, aware much of her suffering was amplified by his actions.  Our actions.

“Now, why didn’t I think of that? Thank you for solving all of my problems.” She giggled, it was worth it. “The truth, I don’t have anywhere to go. I may have fallen back into bad habits.” She fidgeted with the handle of her mug, an old nervous habit he remembered from before.

Knowing what she meant, sadness washed over him. “Let’s get you healthy and we’ll figure out the rest from there.”

“Yeah, let’s figure out the rest from there,” she said. “Thank you for saving my life,  again .”

“You’re welcome, Marian.” If only she knew, he would save her life a thousand times. He would give her anything if he could.


	8. They Pushed On- Act II Qunari Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian, Varric, Aveline and Fenris defend Lowtown from waves of Qunari attackers. 
> 
> TW: Gore and Violence

Ash rained from the sky like a heavy snow while smoke billowed instacks filling the streets with their odor. Marian had seen her world burn too many times in her life. First the Darkspawn horde and now Kirkwall. 

It was an arrogant and foolish notion to assume she could stay the Qunari from unleashing their fury upon the Marches. Another day, more circumstances she couldn’t control. This was shaping up to the worst month of her life.

She wiped the dirt, sweat and blood from her forehead and adjusted her grip on her staff. She chewed at the inside of her cheek as she thought.

“Hawke, are you hurt?” Varric placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked over at her friend,his face smudged with soot and his favorite red coat splattered in darkening gore.

Rising to her feet she coughed into the nook of her elbow. “It’s just like Carver to run in, save the day and bow out before I can convince him to actually help.” She frowned. 

“Junior has a unique sense of timing,” Varric added. She knew he was trying to be comforting, but she was more annoyed than anything. How could her brother just leave her? What could be more important than a Qunari invasion? Wardens were always single minded. 

Aveline and Fenris returned to Marian and Varric after having chased after a troop of Karashock who diverted from the party they were fighting. They already looked tired fighting after fighting their way up from the docks. Fenris and Marian’s eyes met, they affirmed they were both alive and well with only a glance before knowing it was time to press forward.

“You just had to get those elven prisoners back, didn’t you Aveline?” Marian harassed Aveline with a grin. 

“Really not the time, Hawke.” Aveline asserted as she wiped her blade clean. Her armor glowed a faint red from the surrounding fires. 

Marian gestured with her head for her companions to keep moving. The bridge to Hightown was going to be a fight to reach. 

After pushing through wave after wave of Karashock they reached the edge of Lowtown and the steps toward Hightown. Fenris grabbed Marian’s hand and positioned himself in front of her, his tattoos illuminating as they were swarmed by Karasaad. Thundering boots of marching Karasaad against the stone street were steady like the drums of war. A psychological game to incite terror in those they were to conquer.

“Stay behind me Marian,” Fenris warned. 

Pulling the energies of the Fade to her, Marian conjured a shield of energy around the elf, a small balm against her worries about his safety. Then the blades of her companion’s weapons lit with flames, from enchanting them. She couldn’t give them more numbers, but she could make every strike count.

Aveline cried out, charging toward the Qunari soldier behind her shield, breaking their line. Swinging her sword around, the Qunari had to back away before engaging the Guard. Fenris attacked from the other side, a glowing wraith of carnage. His sword cleaving the grey behemoth warriors in half in a single swing.

Varric loosed volleys of arrows on the flanking Karasaad, turning the attackers into flailing pincushions. Despite their punctured bodies, they refused to quit.

“Hawke, a little help!” Varric cried out.

Marian whipped around, rolled her fingers into a fist and pulled down, using magic to knock down the Karasaad. This gave Varric enough time to unleash more arrows at the Qunari. Turning back to Fenris and Aveline, they worked like a team to cut through the second wave of Karasaad descending on the companions. 

Reaching for the depths of her magic, Marian found herself growing fatigued. From a pouch on her belt she withdrew a small vial of effervescent blue liquid. “Bottoms up,” she said as she knocked back the vial’s contents and roared with renewed energy. 

_Fire! Fire! Fire_ _!_ She thought and pulled from the heavens a barrage of fireballs which smashed into the remaining Qunari. Their flaming bodies ran erratically before reducing to piles of cinders. 

Aveline and Fenris came back, Marian’s eyebrows lowered in a frown, noticing a dark spot growing on Fenris’s thigh. 

“You’re hurt.” Marian asserted and knelt down. She pointed at the spot in front of her, and without protest, Fenris sat down, and leaned against Marian. There was something ironic how the only time they could touch each other anymore was in battle. Marian reached into her pouch and withdrew another blue vial. Aveline scowled.

“How many of those have you had today?” Aveline questioned, as she sheathed her sword.

“As many as it takes,  _Mom_ . I don’t know, the fucking Qunari are attacking my home. It’s not a normal Tuesday.” Marian snapped back. She placed a hand on Fenris’s wound and cast her strongest healing spell. A wave of nausea crashed through her, only flinching the slightest amount. She refused let them see what the day was going to cost her. 

Rejuvenated and healed, Fenris stood back up and extended a hand to Marian pulling her to her feet. “Thank you, Marian.” 

She gave him a smile and thumbs up before staggering a few steps and doubling over, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the cobblestone street. The daily nausea had increased over the last week, but nothing was going to stop her from saving Kirkwall. 

“Hawke…” Aveline said gently. There wasn’t time for her friend’s concerns.

“Shut up, Aveline. Just shut up.” Marian wiped her mouth, opened a flask and swallowed a few mouthfuls of bad whiskey from the Hanged Man to cleanse her palette. 

Fenris again helped Marian to standing, and pulled her in for a tight embrace. He rested his cheek against hers before breaking the nuzzle. Despite their separation, it was impossible for her to not take every moment possible to be close to him. The hug bolstered her more than ten lyrium tonics or a flagon of whiskey. 

Screams in the distance broke the moment and served as a grim a reminder of the stakes at hand. Marian knew there was nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice to ensure her friends and city would be safe. Together they ran toward Hightown. They pushed on.


	9. Validity II- Post Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW- Some NSFW content. Adult themes.

It was easy for Marian to plug herself into Anders’ business once she was strong enough to stand for more than twenty minutes at a time. His little shop bustled with business, and she helped deliver customer orders, sweep the store, and even became adept at arranging wildflowers in pottery for decoration and sale. 

Life was simple, and she was content. Anders seemed in good humor most days, and they laughed about the “love potions” flying off the shelf as fast as they could brew them. 

Marian even contributed her own recipes, a ginger lemon concoction for sore throats and a rose water mist for dry skin. For the first time in her life, everything felt uncomplicated. 

Somewhere to the east Carver was finally having his day in the sun as someone important, she didn’t have to worry about him anymore. Varric was Viscount of Kirkwall, a man of responsibility and importance. She knew he was annoyed by his position, but he was taken care of. Sebastian sat on the throne in Starkhaven, his birthright. 

The week was a particularly busy one, non-stop customers streaming in, it was difficult to keep enough product on the shelf. Anders spent extra time making potions while Marian worked the storefront. 

At the end of the day they both plopped onto the floor leaning against the counter.

“I think I’m going to close the shop tomorrow, I don’t think we have a single elfroot potion, left.” Anders sighed, leaning his head back looking at the ceiling.

“But what will we do without a hundred people coming to buy things?” Marian laughed. She pulled the leather tie keeping her hair tied back and slouched as her long black wavy mane unfurled around her shoulders. “Who are all these people anyway? Is there a town near by or something?” 

Anders laughed rubbing his bearded chin. “About ten kilometers out of the forest, I guess the roads are busy. Tomorrow I need to go to the forest and gather elfroot. I’m down to my last bundle. This week really has been something.” He stroked his beard absently.

“I’ll brew up the last batch of potions while you’re out then. After spending time with the Inquisition I could never gather elfroot again. That organization was obsessed,  obsessed ! I tell you.” Marian smirked.

“Come on, a good walk in the woods will do you well. You’ve been cooped up here all week. You must be going stir crazy.” He commented

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine, I will go with you, but I’m not picking a single elfroot. Anything else, is fine. A Hawke’s got to have limits you know.”

He looked at her and grinned and pushed on her shoulder, she fell over laughing. He joined her in a good chuckle before pushing off the ground to his feet and extended a hand to her. She took it, and he pulled her to standing. For a moment, they were face to face. He quickly turned away and headed back to the living quarters. 

“I’m going to get dinner started, would you bring the plants inside?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course.” She stepped outside, feeling the final rays of the setting sun warming her face. She examined the large clay pot of royal elfroot. She drug the six large pots inside, the effort was more than she anticipated. 

Once back inside, the savory scent of sautéed onions and duck fat made her mouth water. She never considered Anders much of a chef, but out here on his own he developed his skills. It was comforting to be around an old friend, one who had grown.

After dinner they sat outside on a wooden bench Anders made looking up at the stars with hot cups of spiced herbal infusions in their hands. Marian shivered, and brought her knees up to her chest and rested her mug in her kneecaps.

“Hard to think you came from Ferelden, flinching at a slight breeze,” Anders commented. Marian turned to him giving him an frown of disapproval.

“Are you sure you’ve got Justice in you and not the spirit of Judgmentalness?” Marian replied in a snarky tone before finishing her drink. Tired of being cold she scooted next to Anders and he draped an arm around her shoulders. 

“You got us there.” 

She rested her head against his chest, listening for his heart. The soft thumping, a metronome of life was comforting. Reaching for Anders beard she slid her fingers inside the thick wiry hair making gentle scratching motions. Something she hadn’t done since he revived her. 

Making a low sound of enjoyment he took her hand into his, kissed her knuckles and brought her hand down.

“Marian...” he cautioned. 

In defeat, she just allowed him to just hold her hand. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she was lonely, and she never thought she would be so comfortable as she was with him now. He even smelled  right to her. The long days gathering and working added to his musculature and he was no longer the thin, feather wearing, Templar fearing Mage she met so many years ago. 

She sat up so she could face him, sitting in her heels on the bench. “I’m sorry for what happened eight years ago. I know this is coming a little late, but I was angry, afraid, drunk and lonely. I couldn’t live in myself anymore and needed as much everything else as I could swallow. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Anders folded his arms across his chest. His face was sullen and Marian could see the thoughts drift across his eyes.

“Marian, I can’t tell you how long I’ve wished to hear this. I’m sorry too.” He placed his hands on his knees as he sighed. “I had wanted you for so long, there was no way I could say no, and to have you for a night, then for it to all be just a drunken fuck, Maker’s mercy.” He looked up at the moons.

“I know, I should have gone elsewhere for what I needed...”

Taking her hand into his again he looked her in the eyes. “No. I would never trade that night with you. I also took advantage. I knew you were heartbroken after Fenris left you. I even knew about the miscarriage, after the Arishock fight, before he did- Isabela told me you were pregnant. But I wanted you so bad I didn’t care what would happen to the friendship we built. Justice hasn’t forgiven me. I haven’t forgiven myself.”

“Then I think we were mutually being shitty then? At least it was a fun night?” Marian laughed, and Anders’ serious expression broke into a grin. 

“It was a fun night,” he agreed witch a chuckle.

The silence was heavy for a moment, the starlit black sky felt like a quilt woven by the Maker. A moment in time where things felt even, balanced again. 

Marian took the initiative and crawled onto Anders’s lap facing him, resting her hands on his shoulders. Their gaze locked before their lips met. Again and again, her tongue reaching for his, a taste she couldn’t get enough of. Her hands drifted down, unbuckling his belt and began untying his trousers. Anders’ lips descended her face to her long neck as his hand went up her tunic and caressed her small breasts. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Marian asked as his free hand began untying her trousers.

“Shut up and fuck me, Hawke.”


	10. Revelations - Between Act II and III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris finds out Marian spent the night with Anders after he left her.

The rain poured outside, she sat with Moon at her side, patting his head. They both wanted for the weather to pass before going for a walk. 

A sound at the door gave Moon pause, as he whined a moment. That whine he reserved for one person. 

Marian knew Fenris was upset before he entered the room, he had a presence which always extended past his person, she could always feel him coming. 

Isabela had swung by earlier in the week to relay the news that Merrill had spilled the beans. Not just the beans, the whole Maker damned pot. Marian chewed at the inside of her cheek. 

The door forcefully swung open, hitting the wall behind it, Marian flinched. She promised herself she wouldn’t, but it still startled her.

“Marian, we need to talk.” Fenris demanded. His shoulders were sloped forward, and his fists curled. 

“Let’s talk.” She stared at the wall, trying to avoid his gaze. 

“Is it true? Is all of it true?” He paced in front of her. The bite in his voice hurt worse than being gored by the Arishock’s horn. 

She swallowed hard. “Yes. It’s all true.”

Stopping, he turned away. “If I had known you were pregnant, I would’ve done anything for you.”

“If pregnancy would be the only reason you would’ve have stayed with me, then that’s not a healthy relationship.” She said exhaling slowly after. She wanted what her mom and dad had. If she was going to have a family she wanted stories by the fire, pillow forts and lessons about the world. She wanted family meals together, everyone falling asleep on each other like mabari pups. She didn’t want to be anyone’s obligation. She was Champion. She didn’t need anyone.

He pivoted to face her, his eyes red and glassy. “That wouldn’t have been the only reason.” He looked away again. “It doesn’t matter now, there’s no child and you slept with Anders.”

“Not like my sleeping with Anders was any of your business. You left next remember?” Marian wanted to spit her words like venom, but she surprised herself with how calm and cool she remained.

“I know I left. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” 

“Am I supposed to just wait for years for you to decide to love me again? I’m the Champion of Kirkwall, and who I take to bed is no one’s business but my own and my partner’s. You made it clear, I wasn’t your partner so I get to maintain my previous revolving door policy.”

“You know how I feel about that mage!” Fenris growled.

“You’re right, I wasn’t thinking about how you felt at all. I was thinking about how I felt. About the shitty year I had. I lost my mother, you dumped me in the worst way, I miscarried after having to best the top Qunari Warrior to save this entire city. You’re damn right I wasn’t thinking about you.” She should have held back. She shouldn’t lean into the moment, but her fire was lit and there was no return. 

She rose to her feet. “I wasn’t thinking about you that night because all I do is think about you. Which is funny, because when you finally came to me, wanting me that’s what you said. You could think of little else. I wake up and wish you were there, in the middle of the day I miss your smell. At night I miss the way you held my hand. Fenris, you fucked me and now you barely look at me. Get out of here. Go to your stupid mansion. You said you didn’t want to talk about us, so don’t talk about us. But don’t think I’m just going to hang around mooning over someone who doesn’t want me. Or decide you want me, and I’ll never share myself with anyone else. But my heart is not a purgatory. I deserve more than waiting!” Tears streamed down Marian’s face, she sobbed most of what she said. She rarely let anyone see her cry, but she couldn’t hold her feelings back any longer.

Fenris’s face wore more shame than shock. It was evident her words wounded him. He took one long look at her, opened his mouth to say something, but no words could come out.

“I’m sorry Marian. You’re right. Your affairs are your own,” he said before storming out.

They didn’t speak again for eight months.


	11. Kindling -Act III Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This piece takes during Act III, during Legacy after Alone

BDBH 11

The Genlock plowed his way across the bridge, knocking Marian back. Launched ten feet away, everything went blurry and her head rung like a bell. Varric shouted in near by punctuated by the whirring of his arrows cutting through the air. 

Across the bridge she heard the cries of Carver and Fenris as they cut the monstrosity down with their large blades. The Genlock’s ichor oozed across the stone, black and pungent enough to cause Marian to dry heave. 

An armored hand extended to her and Fenris brought her back up to her feet. They exchanged cautious smiles. 

“Watch out for the Genlocks with shields, they really pack momentum when they get going,” Carver explained. The encounter was nothing to him, killing Darkspawn was now his daily life. 

“Let’s see what’s down that corridor, maybe somewhere defensible we can rest for the night.” Marian rubbed her the back of her head where she smacked into the pillar. They hadn’t really stopped for over 16 hours, the adrenaline and the novelty of figuring out their father’s mysteries had given way to injuries and exhaustion. 

“Good call, Hawke. Today’s been a weird one,” Varric chimed in. 

Carver led the way, a giant in his own right. As a Warden, he could feel Darkspawn before they were close. He inspected the area and Hawke heard him call out, “All clear! Let’s make camp.” 

Varric broke out his small stove and Marian created fire with her magic, as there's little to burn in the strange stone structure leading down to the Deep Roads. He fried up some salted meats and mushrooms. Carver produced some questionable liquor which burned as it went down, and continued to burn for a good five minutes after consumption. Marian unpacked some small wheat cakes, and Fenris donated a bottle of good wine to wash it all down. 

In the queasy light of the stone prison, it might as well have been the Hanged Man, together it was like no time had passed. 

"And then, Stroud said, 'That's what we call the Orlesian Waltz.' Sheathed his sword and walked away." Carver wheezing between words as he concluded his story. Varric held his sides as his face glimmered, wet from tears of laughter. Even the elf laughed, wiping the corners of his eyes. 

"I never thought Stroud would have such comedic timing!" Marian squealed, her sides ached. She longed to pause time, and take this moment and preserve it in stone or glass. There, following their father's footsteps, she was with her brother and two closest friends. Maybe she could find enough treasure to buy a castle somewhere and pack it full of her friends. No chantry to knock on their door. Safety.

Carver cleared his throat, "Honestly, neither did I!"

Marian unfolded herself and stood up. "Okay, boys, I'm going to get us more water from that waterfall a few rooms back." 

She didn't want to trouble the rest of them, they were happy and content. Before she could grab the empty water skins, they were snatched away by the same spiked gauntlet which helped her to her feet after the fight ended. 

"May I join you?" Fenris asked. His face apologetic with pursed eyebrows and a soft smile. He might as well have been asking for thousands of gold pieces with his ashamed expression. 

"The more the merrier," she said, inside she rolled her eyes because she responded to their last major conversation with the exact same thing. 

Marian began walking toward the water sprouting from a crack in the stone wall they passed earlier in the evening. She and Fenris exchanged listless glances and half smiles. Each almost saying something but before anything came out the moment fizzled out like a wick extinguishing itself in a bath of wax.

The waterfall poured through a cascading crack in the wall of some long forgotten chamber. A sprig of elfroot sprouted where the water landed and began its stream down to the great nothing below. The stream of water was only two fists wide, but fell with force as if a great body of water was desperately trying to be free from behind the rock. 

Fenris aided her in filling the five skins. Marian turned to begin the walk to camp, but Fenris grabbed her arm. 

“Marian... I’m sorry.”

She pivoted to face him, seeing his white hair matted against his forehead, with a gentle touch she fixed it for him and said, “I know, me too.”

As her hand returned to her side, he caught it and held it softly with his.

“You have always been there for me, your friendship has been without reservation,” his green eyes looked away from her and at the water spout. “I haven’t been fair to you. Especially the last time we talked.” 

It  _ wasn’t _ fair. Marian was unprepared for this moment of honesty. She felt like the cracked stone wall, holding back a world of earth and memories. Her cheeks wet from the unexpected deluge of tears. 

Fenris took her into his arms, she dropped her head into the leather pauldrons of his armor. He smelled of fresh rain on soil, the scent of Lyrium which entombed his person in their markings. The skins of water fell to the floor. Neither of them concerned about spilling the contents. 

As if they both had the idea simultaneously, their lips came together in a long savored kiss. Another kiss. Each one was followed by one more. She could feel herself grow warm, her hands grazed the side clasps on his chest plate. Just a flick of the latch. 

She withdrew, stepping away, not wanting to push him into anything. Carver and Varric might go looking for them, and then, well, she wouldn’t hear the end of it from either of them. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to just... push for what I want,” she said, sighing. Her breathing began to return to normal. 

“Maybe we should talk about what we want?” He stepped toward her. 

“Okay.” She looked at her feet, she wasn’t in the mood for a conversation, but if this was the place, it was the place. 

Silence hung for a moment. Only the chorus of the waterfall to pad the lack of anyone saying anything. 

“Maybe we could talk about it when this is all over?” She offered. 

“No.” He refused. 

Confused, she asked,“No?” 

“No, I need to say this now. I’ve hated myself for leaving. It was the biggest mistake of my life. You have been beside me through every step helping ensure my freedom. I had you for a moment, and I let you go, and then I had the gall to be angry with you. I wanted you to hate me. I thought it would be easier,” he pleaded. 

“You did a good job trying,” she smirked. “I can’t stay mad at you, I forgave you the next day.”

Once again he took her left hand, “Marian, you are ever persistent in my thoughts. Every piece of Kirkwall is imprinted of a memory of you and I. You’ve been there all this time and I was too afraid to say anything. If you would have me, I would be yours.” 

Before even she knew what she was doing, she leapt toward him, mobbing him with her lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“That’s a yes then?” He asked between kisses. She could feel his words against her lips. 

“Yes that’s a yes!” She giggled as she spoke.

They were waylaid a while longer before returning to camp with water. Neither Carver or Varric noticed as they were playing a very serious game of DiamondBack which commanded their attention. 

Marian and Fenris resumed their places by the fire. 

“So you two are back on again?” Carver asked, not looking up from his hand. 

“How did you…” Marian began to ask not wanting to know.

“I’m a Warden, sister. It’s my _duty_ to be observant. You both reek of lyrium, and unless you spent two hours fighting cave spiders or you two just f-“

“Carver!” Marian interrupted her brother. She was sure her face was red with embarrassment. She looked to see how Fenris was handling the moment, he looked utterly unfazed. She lamented his masterful poker face. He placed his hand over hers against the floor. His way of signaling everything was fine. 

“And the game is mine, dwarf!” Carver cackled as he set down his hand. 

“Well, I’ll be a nug’s uncle. Shit, Carver. When did you get good?” Varric began to shuffle the deck. “So, Wicked Grace, everyone?”


End file.
